On the Demystification of the Artist

Most of us, at some point or another, have probably found ourselves truly awestruck regarding a work of art or a piece of writing, thinking “I wish I could write or draw or think like that.” Some pieces are just that remarkable. They lead us to imagine their creators – and by extension all of their peers – as higher beings, more enlightened than us mere mortals, who could never live up to that kind of standard.

Like so many of us I used to live with this kind of mindset. I was so in awe of artists and writers. It was ridiculous. Without ever being conscious of doing this, I made them out to be some kind of demigods. Never in a million years would I have thought that I myself might be able to create something as beautiful and meaningful as they did. There were just worlds and worlds between us. And so I never really let myself try essentially holding myself back.

I don't even remember exactly when that changed, but somewhere along the way I realized that writers and artist weren't that much different from us, and that I didn't have to be Shakespeare or Leonardo freaking Da Vinci to express myself and create something. I think might actually owe a lot of this epiphany to Stephenie Meyer of all people. When I saw her in the DVD extras, she seemed like such an unlikely person to be capable of being an author. And lets face it, her books are not that well written either – but she is an author nonetheless. So I thought, why not just try? So I did, and it was fun. People even liked what I did and some of them even started looking at me like I actually was one of them writers now. Who would have thought? Without even the ambition of ever getting published people thought of me as a writer.

Somewhere along this process I started thinking about us rather than them. It turns out as small as this shift of perspective seems, it was actually a quantum leap. Being able to imagine writers – and consequently artists in general – as complex mortal beings didn't just help me with my writing. I also feel like I understand a lot better what they or their works could be saying.

Because by placing the artist in some kind of divine sphere, I apparently perceived their works as a lot more mysterious than they actually were. I as a mere human being was just not supposed to understand – I was to merely admire and praise. Taking the creators out of this sphere, allowed me to get over this mental block and really think. Before that I would probably not even thought of writing reviews and blog posts.

Since then I also tackled art again – which I had been neglecting for quite some time – and it is actually fun, now that I don't hold myself to such ridiculous standards anymore. Not only that, but it also seems much easier. I still don't think that I or something I create will ever be god's gift to humanity. But that doesn't mean that the things I think or feel are not worthy of being expressed or shared.

On The Fault in Our Stars and False Beliefs About An Author's Authority

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I was a bit wary at first, because, you know, cancer book usually equals depressing and/or preaching. But no, this is definitely not your typical cancer book. Thank god for someone who doesn't use a serious illness to show healthy people the worth of their lives and yada yada yada. And though it is sad, it's not as depressing as one might expect from a cancer book. As usual John Green's wit serves to lighten the mood – even if that means that his characters sometimes sound a lot like him. What I love most about his books, though, is that they always give me something to think about. And because of that I will readily forgive him all of his minor short comings.

What kept me thinking long after I read this particular book was the question about whether or not authors are the one and only authority to their books. In the book Van Houten clearly holds the opinion – as does John Green – that the text is the authority and it's readers are free to interpret or build on it. There are, however, authors who would beg to disagree. (I won't name any names, but I hazard the authors who won't have you write any fan fiction of their works are some likely candidates.)

My stance is that fictional stories are ideas, and – even though copyright law might disagree with me there – ideas are not property per se. They didn't use to be thus and neither should they be. Of course you can't copy and paste, but you should be able to think and build on ideas. I admit that it is difficult to draw the line, but the way today's copyright law draws it is just beyond ridiculous. Re-imaginations, recreations and reincarnations are the surest ways for ideas to survive in posterity and that is what we risk losing.

But this wasn't supposed to be about the can of worms that is copyright law. The question is whether or not what the author imagines outside or even inside the text does have any more weight than what you would. And I'm with John and Van Houten on this one. It doesn't. You might read things into the story that the author didn't intend or the ending of a book disappoints you, and you decide to pretend it never happened or come up with a different one instead. By all means, knock yourself out.

You shouldn't view books and stories as holy scripture and the author their prophet, because conversations have much more creative potential than lectures. And though even authors themselves might confuse authorship with dictatorship, that doesn't make it any more right. Thinking for yourself is a skill that needs to be cultivated – as it should be, otherwise you'll be much too susceptible to manipulation. So yeah, you should go ahead and make reading your own experience. Let creativity bloom - even if it is in opposition. Posterity might just thank you for it.



View all my reviews

On the Lack of Romance and Lots of Selfish Belief in the Letters of Abelard and Heloise

Letters of Abelard and Heloise by Pierre Bayle

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I must say that these letters were not quite what I had expected. That was because Abelard and Heloise didn't exactly live up to their reputation. I'm not sure how they ever ended up on the most-romantic-tragic-love-story-list. Don't get me wrong, I found the letters to be profoundly interesting on many different levels. A treasure for historians. Interesting character studies. But romantic? Not so much.

Abelard strikes me as too much of a narcissist to raise much sympathy for his misfortunes – especially since he basically does everything in his power to turn everyone against him. And the sad thing is, he doesn't even notice it – because he's just too damn full of himself. Lot's of self serving bias going on in there, I'd say.

And what about Heloise? Well, I've got a little more sympathy for her and her situation. What I find strange though – and maybe that's just my modern mind - is that among all those lamentations neither of them writes a single word of their offspring? All they talk about is themselves and their miserable lots. And that brings me right to the topic of their faith. You don't need to read much between the lines to notice that their so called piety and religious career, if you will, is a purely selfish endeavor. There's none of the nobler motivations. No ambition to make the world a better place and what not. All those I could tolerate within the proper framework – even as an atheist. For them, though, religion is but a means to an end. And I'm quite repulsed by that.

What strikes me as very ironic is that they feel oh so bad about having chosen their paths for the wrong reasons and about their lingering love for each other. So they apparently come to the conclusion that they should embrace their roles and try harder in order to – here it comes – receive absolution and save their own souls. They don't even seem to grasp the fact that this very foundation of their belief essentially turns everything they do into a selfish act. Yeah, they probably should feel bad, but they do so for all the wrong reasons. And the saddest part is Abelard's self-righteous attitude that people like him so often tend to display.



View all my reviews

On the Evolution of Dr. Dolittle

Have you ever thought about what has become of the good old Dr. Dolittle? I mean how many kids and young adults today still know the original story rather than the watered down version from the 1998 movie with Eddie Murphy? Not very many, I find. And that is too bad, because I would go as far as to say that this newer version in it's message is not only shallow, but potentially harmful. My point is this: it stifles ambition by perpetuating the nefarious myth that genius is something your born with – or (most of us) not.

Remember the Doctor from the book or the 1967 movie with Rex Harrison? He actually made an effort to learn the languages of animals – hundreds of different languages, in fact – because he prefers their company to that of his fellow humans and wants to understand them better to be more able to treat them right.

And what about the Doctor from 1998? He just magically has the ability to understand and communicate with all animals, but resents this gift and the animals, since he just wants to be normal and accepted by his fellow humans. He eventually learns to appreciate his special gift (sort of), but not before it is validated by other humans and helps him earn their praise.

So while the Doctor from 1967 used to illustrate how genius is forged through concentrated work and effort in the direction of one's natural inclination, the newer version perpetuates the myth that genius is something you have to be born into – and not work for to achieve. Not only that, but it also makes the point that it is actually a burden you have to bear, because it's not considered cool by your peers. I mean, what the hell?!

This just goes to illustrate the widespread desire in today's society to not only be effortlessly special, but most importantly to have this validated through praise. Where would we be had Socrates or da Vinci or Einstein or Tesla or any great mind in history worked under this assumption?

I would even suspect that this frame of mind and its close relatives are largely responsible for the impression (or maybe reality?) that people are getting dumber. Faith in your own abilities is a huge part of the learning process. If you take that away and substitute it with messages like the born-to-genius-myth or the math-is-so-hard-myth and stuff like that, you'll have yourself a nice self-fulfilling prophecy.